


Don't Cuddle a Cuttlefish

by ivyness



Series: AU Yeah August 2018 [11]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Mermaids, Crack, M/M, au yeah august
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-12
Updated: 2018-08-12
Packaged: 2019-06-26 03:36:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15654972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ivyness/pseuds/ivyness
Summary: Seriously, don't cuddle a cuttlefish





	Don't Cuddle a Cuttlefish

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so sorry. I don't even know what this is. Yesterday ficlet was supposed to be secret agents and they became mermaid secret agents. Today is supposed to be mermaids and instead they are secret agent mermaids. I don't even know.

“Tuna,” Clint muttered into his comm piece from high up on his perch, bored out of his mind.

“What happened to radio silence, Barton?” asked Agent Coulson.

“Salmon?” Clint asked and when he didn’t get a response, “Goldfish.”

There was only static on the line and then Coulson’s vaguely annoyed response, “Radio silence.”

“Oh looks like a hit a nerve,” Clint said with glee as he scanned the area through his scope.

Clint could feel Coulson’s mental eye roll from 200 feet away and 20 stories up. “Do I seem like a goldfish to you?”

“You certainly blend in well.” Even Clint’s sharp eyes kept sliding off Coulson’s exceedingly plain, non threatening form.

“Where are you looking Agent?” Coulson replied, his eyes sliding up from his newspaper to make clear eye contact with Clint through the scope.

Clint quickly jerked his eyes back to the large archway across from his perch. “Eyes on the dead drop, Sir.” 

“Mhmm” was Coulson’s unconvinced reply.

Clint rotated through the entrances, checking the potential hiding places he had noted in an earlier sweep when his eye caught on a man in a bulky leather jacket. It was too hot to comfortably wear a leather jacket and the man’s loose, sagging pants suggested a concealed weapon rather than a fashion statement. “Potential hostile heading towards the drop on your nine and I see another two on your six”

“Two more incoming on my one. Keep eyes on the drop Agent.” Coulson replied without even so much as a twitch, as his position on a bench near the archway was slowly surrounded

The time of delivery came and went and Clint could feel the tension slowly ratcheting up. The other park goers recognized the suspicious leather clad thugs lurking around and cleared out the area. Soon the only ones left were Coulson and five hostiles, it was ten minutes past the time of expected delivery, and there was still no sign of the package.

Clint nocked an arrow and waited nervously for Coulson’s signal. 

The first leather clad goon that Clint had spotted meandered their way over to Coulson, looming menacingly and much too close for Clint’s liking. Coulson didn’t even twitch. Just as Clint saw the guy reach out to grab Coulson’s newspaper, Coulson gently folded it up, set it down gently on the bench and looked up in surprise.

“Oh dear, I didn’t see you there, sir.” Coulson said.

Clint barely held back his sniggers.

Clint couldn’t make out what the other guy said but he were clearly agitated as he reached out to grab Coulson. Big mistake. Clint watched, awed as usual, as Coulson calmly took down the goon with a easy, practical strength that verged on graceful.

Coulson twisted the other man’s arm up and back, forcing him to his knees and Clint winced in sympathy. A second thug tried to sneak up behind Coulson and Clint almost decided to screw the signal and start shooting when Coulson brought his arm up and back taser taking the other goon out. 

“Hawkeye, secure the perimeter.” Coulson said as he bent down to interrogate the one he still had in an arm lock.

“Aye aye Captain.” Clint replied, keeping an eye on the other goons to make sure none of them got any funny ideas.

Just a Coulson straightened up, the other guy knocked unconscious, Clint heard the screech of tires and screaming pedestrians as two trucks suddenly veered into the park, heading right for the archway.

“Coulson!” yelled Clint.

“Hold fire!”

“But Coulson -”

“Hold fire! That’s an order, Hawkeye!”

Clint grumbled at being sidelined as the two trucks careened towards Coulson, who stood still as a statue, his suit still in impeccable condition.

Coulson reached under jacket, pulled out a small handgun, aimed and shot twice to blow out the closest truck’s front tires. He calmly sidestepped the truck as it swung wildly out of control and proceeded to blow out the tires of the second truck. 

As Coulson walked back over to the first truck, Clint calmly shot the goons who tried to rush him. The truck had a heavy lock on the back and Coulson stepped back and called into his comm, “The door.”

Clint quickly swapped in another from his quiver and fired. The arrow landed with a thud on the truck’s door and the arrow’s corrosive acid quickly melted through the lock, allowing the truck doors to swing open.

Coulson disappeared into the back and Clint let himself take that as his signal to quickly subdue all the remaining hostiles.

When Coulson came back out he carried a silver briefcase, discreetly handcuffed to his wrist. He looked around, spotting all the people unconscious on the ground, arrows protruding from various parts of their bodies and sighed, “Clint.”

“What?” Clint asked defensively, “You said secure the perimeter.”

Coulson sighed again and walked back over to the bench to retrieve his newspaper. “We will be having a discussion about this when we get back.”

Clint grinned in victory.

“Cuttlefish. You look harmless but are too much of a badass to not be poisonous.”

It was subtle but they didn’t call him Hawkeye for nothing. Coulson resumed walking and anybody else wouldn’t have noticed the tiny hitch in his stride.”

Silence.

Clint sputtered, “Oh my god I’m right? You’re a cuttlefish!” Clint doubled over in laughter.

“Says the hawkfish,” Coulson replied tartly.

Clint quickly pulled out his phone, intent on texting Natasha. Instead he found himself googling Cuttlefish.

“Don't try to cuddle this cuttlefish,” Clint read to Coulson, quickly continuing as Coulson picked up his pace and made a beeline for Clint’s nest. “Though charming and colorful, its poison is extremely toxic and can be lethal. The skin of a cuttlefish changes color rapidly, in order to evade predators.” 

“Clint,” Coulson called in warning.

Clint couldn’t help laugh, “Yep this is definitely you!” He moved on to the next item in his search, “The larger male cuttlefish mate with the females by grabbing them with their tentacles, turning them face-to-face, and then using a specialized tentacle to insert sperm sacs into an opening near the female's mouth.” Clint sputtered to a stop.

“Clint.”

“Oh my god.”

“Clint”

“Oh my god.” Clint exclaimed, “You have tentacles! You have tentacle sex!”

And the door to the rooftop Clint was perched on swung open with a bang and Coulson walked through.

“Oh shit.”

“Yeah you’re right, oh shit,” Coulson said as he grabbed Clint by the collar and towed him upright. “Care for a kiss?” asked Coulson, menacingly.

Clint felt like swooning, “Oh fuck, yes.”


End file.
